


A Dose of What the Future Holds

by Fanhag102



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Scott Stiles brotp, Werewolf Bites, seeing the future... kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanhag102/pseuds/Fanhag102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I cannot show your future. Only what <em>might have been</em> your future,” she explained, and Stiles had a brief moment to think that was a pretty crappy skill for a fortune teller before he saw himself in the glowing glass of the crystal ball. </p><p>His face was pale and terrified, the scene familiar, with Peter Hale’s teeth just brushing the skin inside his wrist. Then, he heard his voice echoing from within the cloudy sphere,</p><p>“Yeah. Okay, do it. Turn me.”</p><p> </p><p>  <em>NOT a werewolf!Stiles AU</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dose of What the Future Holds

**Author's Note:**

> I have this checklist of Sterek fic ideas in a notebook and thus far I've only checked off two. This will be my third. Great, now I've only got like five more to go! 
> 
> Good lord I need help.
> 
> As usual, title comes from an Ed Sheeran song, "You Need Me, I Don't Need You"

It was tradition. 

Well, as much of a tradition as teenage boys could really manage to maintain without feeling dumb about it. They never discussed it, but it was assumed by both that it would happen every year, no matter what. 

Every year since becoming friends, Scott and Stiles had been going to the Beacon Hills Carnival together, wasting every penny they could muster up on shitty games, cotton candy, and funnel cakes then riding the tilt-a-whirl until they puked. It was one of those best friend traditions that showed true camaraderie and Stiles had some great memories from those carnivals. Like the time Stiles decided not to listen to the operator of the Gravitron and tried to move one whole space over while the ride was going. He’d nearly passed out from the effort it took and Scott had laughed at him for the next month, imitating the face Stiles had been making as he tried to move against the force pulling him back to the wall. Or the time Scott was determined to win at the shooting game and spent two hours and all of his money failing miserably because he is and will always be a _horrible_ shot. Stiles had his revenge for the Gravitron incident by shooting the target on his first try (because he isn’t the son of the sheriff for nothing) and winning the huge Batman doll as Scott just stared at him in open-mouthed indignation. 

Stiles didn’t think he and Scott would make it to the carnival this year, what with all the werewolf insanity and Allison and Scott nearly failing school _because_ of all the werewolf insanity and Allison. Things certainly had been calmer lately, after the decimation of the alpha pack and Derek finally just _asking_ Scott to join his pack like a normal, functioning person instead of growling out ultimatums and only making Scott want to have even less to do with him. After much deliberation and the opinions of both Stiles and Allison, Scott agreed. Derek was happy. Scott was happy. Stiles was happy. Isaac was deliriously happy. Boyd was… Boyd. Everyone was good with the situation, in any case, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still some…issues. 

Though, surprisingly, most of these issues came from outside forces. Outside forces like witches and gnomes and fairies and rogue omegas and other things that made Stiles life just seem really messy and full of stuff. Stuff like Derek. A lot of Derek. 

An abundance of Derek, even. In Stiles life, that is. Because somehow along the way it seemed like Derek almost trusted him. Maybe even more than Scott. 

And so when the shit started hitting the fan, Stiles and Derek stuck together. They had each other’s backs. And then in the small moments of peace when the shit wasn’t hitting the fan, Stiles and Derek maybe actually almost became friends. 

It was weird and Stiles didn’t really know what to do with it. Most of the time Derek was an asshole. But honestly, Stiles could dish out his own asshole-ness right back if he wanted to, and although it maybe wasn’t the greatest of relationships, it probably wasn’t the worst either. 

It worked, was the point. And things had been calmer because of it. Still, when Stiles drove by the abandoned lot the carnival always set up in and saw the big trucks and RV’s with the carnival’s brightly-colored logo painted in fading letters on the sides he just sighed and kept driving because he was pretty sure Scott wouldn’t even remember about their carnival tradition, and even if he did he’d probably think they were too old anyway. At best, he’d probably want to take Allison there on a date.

No dates for Stiles, though. No sirree. He was completely prepared to push the carnival out of his mind and not bother giving it a second thought when Scott called him up one night around 6 o’clock out of the blue. 

“Dude!”

“Yeah? What is it? No one’s dying, right? I was just about to log into WOW.” 

“No WOW tonight, Stiles. The carnival’s in town!”

“Yeah, I saw the trucks and stuff the other day.” 

“What? And you didn’t say anything?” 

“I didn’t think you’d wanna go this year. You know, with everything that’s been going on.”

“Nothing has attacked us in months, dude. And I’ve been studying for the SAT’s like crazy. I think I deserve a break. Besides—it’s tradition!” 

Stiles grinned into the phone and wondered how he could have ever doubted Scott’s love of cotton candy and shitty carnival games. 

“You’re damn right it is! Pick you up in ten.”

 

On the ride there Scott confessed that he thought about inviting the rest of the pack to come with them as a sort of bonding outing, but didn’t feel like letting them in on his and Stiles’ “thing.” He hadn’t even thought about inviting Allison, and Stiles felt a little emotional about the strength of his and Scott’s friendship. He was never going to doubt him again!

When they arrived the parking lot was already about half-full and they had to park a ways back, not too far behind the Rocketship ride. The entrance was on the other side of the carnival though, and they walked around, talking and wondering how many of the games Scott could win with his enhanced werewolf abilities now. Stiles thought they should clean the place out—he’d always wanted the giant Scooby Doo. Scott gave him a look and said that he was at least going to win something for Allison. Stiles didn’t understand how his friend could not want to take advantage of the same carnies who took advantage of them for so many years, but he’s not the werewolf so what could he do? 

They bought the tickets they needed for rides and started wandering around, enjoying the fact that they had some time to relax and not worry about people dying or trying to kill them for once. They rode a few rides, Scott got some cotton candy which Stiles stole most of, Stiles recognized some kids from their school whom they actively avoided, taking a detour between a couple of game tents to come out in an area of the carnival they hadn’t been to yet. The funhouse was to the left (never looking anywhere near as fun as the one Danny and Sandy sang inside in Grease), a few of the crappier games scattered around that no one was playing, and then off in a corner almost out of sight was a small colorful tent that Stile had never seen at the carnival before in all his years coming. It had an artfully painted sigh hanging over the entrance that read in exotic, mystic writing, “Fortune Tellers.” Below that in smaller writing it said, “palm reading, tarot cards, crystal ball, $5 each.”

Stiles was intrigued, to say the least, and started pulling Scott towards the tents by the sleeve, already taking out his wallet and pulling a five quickly from the fold. 

“Fortune telling? Really Stiles? That stuff’s all fake, everyone knows that.”

“You’re a werewolf, Scott. You have no right to call anything fake. And anyway it sounds cool. Even if it’s total crap it can’t be more of waste of money than that ring toss game with the bent rings.”

Scott shrugged and seemed to accept Stiles determination, following him into the tent where they were faced with three more doors. Above the doors were the choices of either crystal ball, tarot cards, or palm reading. Scott and Stiles glanced at each other and Stiles motioned to the door labeled crystal ball.

“That way if she sees the grim in the mist of the crystal ball I can just tell her it’s cool, that’s probably just my best friend.”

Scott rolled his eyes as Stiles grinned and the werewolf turned towards the palm reading room. They waved as they went their separate way and Stiles edged towards the entrance of the crystal ball room. It was very dark inside the tent, the air thick with some exotic scent that made Stiles’ nose itch. It probably had to be worse for Scott and he hoped his palm reading turned out to be just good stuff. 

“Come in,” a voice said as Stiles hesitated to pass through the cloth doors. He jumped a bit and was grateful that no one was around to see it. Swallowing and blinking in the dim light, he pushed the fabric aside and stepped into the room. 

The fortune teller who saw seated on the other side of a small table holding only a swirling crystal ball at it’s center very much looked the part. Though, she was a little less Professor Trelawney and a little more Esmeralda. As in, she was super hot. 

She had dark red hair. Not strawberry blond locks like Lydia’s, but a dark maroon that was brown in the wrong light. It was messy and matted in places like she was about to go dreadlocks but hadn’t committed yet. Her eyes were the lightest blue Stiles had ever seen—almost white, and she stared at him in a way that made Stiles’ skin crawl. Her lips were stained red and her smile haunting. About as haunting as the first words she spoke as soon as Stiles entered the room. 

“Welcome, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Okay, now that is just creepy. How did you—do you do that to everyone?”

She stared at him silently for long enough that he started to anxiously twitch, eyes darting around the room and fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Then, after a painfully long silence she smiled wider and replied,

“You are not everyone, Stiles. You are the boy who runs with wolves.”

Stiles hadn’t seen that one coming. 

“Have a seat.” 

“Ummmmm,” Stiles hesitated, because if all his recent supernatural adventures had taught him anything it was to not outright trust hot people. And no, Derek was not the exception to that rule. He _was_ the rule. 

“I don’t bite. Seers have long been friends with the wolves.”

“And that’s what you are? A seer?” 

“Yes, and I believe you came here to have your fortune told?”

“I guess I did,” Stiles said slowly and cautiously, stepping further into the small room and taking a seat in the chair opposite the seer.

“What’s your name? You know mine. It’s only fair.”

She looked at him over the crystal ball, eyes even whiter than before and Stiles didn’t think she was going to answer. If she didn’t he was going to high-tail it out of there quick because this was already way weirder than it should have been and Stiles was not an idiot—he could read the signs of impending doom as well as anyone. But after a small hesitation she replied frankly,

“Hanna.” 

“Really? Hanna? Not Carmira or Sashayana or Sybill or something?” 

“So you are familiar with the seers,” she nodded, narrowing her gaze. 

“A little. I do a lot of reading.” 

“You named three of the most powerful seers of all time. Whatever you read must have been very well researched.”

Stiles shrugged. 

“Internet.”

Her smile quirked up the slightest bit and she nodded.

“Not all of us have such ancient names. But you did not come here to learn more about the seers, you came to learn your future.”

“Actually I just thought it’d be a good laugh, but sure. Lets get on with the future telling.”

Her eyes seemed to flash and she smiled again.

“I cannot show your future. Only what _might have been_ your future,” she explained, and Stiles had a brief moment to think that was a pretty crappy skill for a fortune teller before he saw himself in the glowing glass of the crystal ball. 

His face was pale and terrified, the scene familiar, with Peter Hale’s teeth just brushing the skin inside his wrist. Then, he heard his voice echoing from within the cloudy sphere,

“Yeah. Okay, do it. Turn me.”

He could almost _feel_ Peter’s teeth—fangs—sink into his skin when the crystal ball showed it in perfect HD clarity. He glanced up and saw that Hanna’s eyes were closed, her hands not touching but reaching out towards the crystal ball. He was sure she was transmitting her thoughts to the ball so that he could see them the way she could inside her head. He looked back down, heart pounding in his chest. 

It’s not like he’d never thought about it before. Like he hadn’t spent hours upon hours of wasted sleep lying in his bed and wondering what would have happened if he’d let Peter bite him, turn him. He wondered if things would really be all that different? If _he_ would be that different? As different as Erica had been, or maybe not that different at all. Maybe he would have been happier, would feel more like pack if he was a wolf like the others. Maybe Derek would like Stiles more if he were more like him.

He watched the crystal ball, hands balled in fists beneath the table. Hanna didn’t even seem like she was breathing as the images played. 

Peter sank his fangs in deep and Stiles screamed and crumpled to the ground right away, blood dripping sickeningly down the length of his arm. When Peter finally let go he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, retracted his claws and straightened his jacket, looking down at Stiles almost pityingly.

“Now we just have to wait and see. I hope you make it, Stiles, I really do. I like you.” 

And he walked away, leaving Stiles crumpled on the parking garage cement, clutching blindly at his arm and hardly daring to move. 

It looked horribly painful, and that was Stiles’ first clue that something was wrong. When Scott was bitten he never told Stiles about being in that kind of pain, of the transformation being so terribly aware. Scott had just woken up after being bitten and that was it, he was a wolf. The Stiles in the crystal ball could barely breathe, Stiles in the fortune teller tent could see the way his chest heaved, trying to fight the pain away. 

He was dying. 

Stiles could see it in his eyes, in the white pallor of his face, in the blood that just wouldn’t stop draining from his arm no matter how he tried to hold it in. It reminded him too much of his mother in her final days and he turned away until he didn’t hear his own shuddering breathing anymore and dared to peak back at the crystal ball. He swallowed upon catching sight of his own corpse staring unseeingly back at him from the depths of the crystal ball. 

The scene changed after that, and Peter was killing Kate Argent, and then right when Stiles and Jackson were supposed to come in and light him up, Derek challenged his uncle one-on-one. The fight was bloody and short—Stiles had to look away when it ended and Derek’s lifeless body was beneath Peter’s foot. He turned red eyes on Scott and then it was gone. The crystal ball was back to being just a swirling mystic object of nothingness and Stiles shook himself to clear the image of Derek dead from his mind. For some reason seeing that was worse than seeing himself die. After a minute Stiles realized that there was yet another time he’d saved Derek’s life—and Derek didn’t even know it!

He looked up to find Hanna staring at him curiously. He nodded, trying to play it off like it didn’t have as much effect on him as it so obviously did.

“Soooo,” he nodded again. “Really dodged the bullet there. Glad I said no. Well, that was enlightening and everything, but I should probably be heading out—“

“Why do you think the bite would have killed you?”

“Hell if I know,” Stiles answered, avoiding her gaze.

“But you’re so well read. You must have some idea.” 

She was toying with him, but Stiles didn’t know why. Well, he didn’t know why she was toying with him or why it mattered but, yeah, he did have a theory about why Peter’s bite killed him instead of turned him. He’d researched the bite thoroughly and one thing that seemed very clear was that there had to be some kind of compatibility between the biter and bitee. So, it wasn’t just due to some weakness of Stiles’ that he died from the bite, but maybe just a lack of random similarities between he and Peter—which Stiles wasn’t all too upset about to be completely honest. 

“I’ve got nothing,” he replied. “But, like I said, I should probably—“

“I do have one more thing I would like to show you,” She interrupted, and he took a chance to look back at her, his curiosity just barely surpassing his desire to get the hell away from her and her freaky-ass eyes.

“What?” he asked. 

“Your future.”

“Heyyyyy now, little miss ‘I can’t show your future only what might have been.’ What’s the deal?”

“I lied,” She shrugged. “I show decisions. Sometimes they take place in the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“The future is ever-changing, time can be altered by the smallest—or largest—of decision. For example, choosing to let Peter Hale bite you. That was an important decision, no matter which answer you chose to give him.”

“But that wasn’t the future. That happened in the past.”

“I told you,” She explained with a frustrated huff. “I show _decision_ , no matter the time. Do you want to see what I have to show you, or not?” 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I better not die in this one!” 

She didn’t give any response to that, merely smirked in a way that made Stiles uncomfortably suspect that she knew things that he did not. He settled back into the chair, frowning at the swirling smoke inside her crystal ball as she placed her hands around it the same way she’d done before. The smoke faded and was replaced with images that, again, were familiar to Stiles. 

It was Derek’s apartment and Stiles was there with Scott, Isaac, and the big bad alpha himself. They were sitting on the couch; Stiles had taken it upon himself to order pizza and pay with Derek’s cash. They were laughing and watching crappy TV and Stiles was sitting beside Derek, leaning against him and trying to explain the importance of a guy’s night out. Derek pointed out that they hadn’t actually gone out anywhere and Stiles rolled his eyes, dutifully ignoring the implications of the playful banter that had become commonplace in his and Derek’s odd friendship. 

The images were moving faster than they had before, little clips instead of the full show, but Stiles remembered it so clearly—after all, this had just taken place a few days ago. 

“I thought you said you wanted to show me the future. This already—“

“Just _watch_ ,” She cut him off, not even opening her eyes to glare at him. He dropped his gaze back to the crystal ball and shut his mouth, exhaling heavily through his nose. 

The rest of the night flew by in the round screen of the orb. Scott challenged Isaac to a contest to see who’s wolf-powers were the strongest and they went outside, Stiles and Derek the judges as they rolled around and scented things, laughing and teasing and joking the whole time. Stiles made more than a few dog jokes and Derek even laughed at one. It was one of the few times Stiles had seen Derek look that relaxed. He watched his betas wrestling with bright, proud eyes, and something in Stiles’ chest felt tight watching him. He wanted Derek to be proud of him too, to have a solid connection to Derek that wasn’t just “friend of the pack.” 

The memory of the feelings hit the Stiles sitting in the fortune teller’s tent hard, like a car ramming into him. Then, from a distance he heard his voice pouring from the crystal ball,

“Derek, if I asked you to bite me… would you?” 

The real Stiles jolted in his seat, making almost the same expression as the Derek in the crystal ball was making. 

Sure, in that moment Stiles remembered thinking that very thing, wondering what it would be like to be evenly matched with Scott and Isaac and Boyd and Jackson, to be Derek’s beta—but he never had any intention of voicing it aloud. That must have been the decision, the place where his future could have changed.

Scott and Isaac stopped fighting and stalked back over to where Derek was still staring at Stiles with wide-eyed shock. 

“Dude,” Scott muttered. “Are you—are you serious?”

The alternate Stiles hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Derek’s suddenly frowning face. 

“Well, I’m already part of all this stuff anyway, you know? Why not make it official? Who knows, maybe I’ll be an insanely good werewolf or something.”

“Yeah, but,” Scott eyed him strangely. “If you could choose…”

“I chose,” Isaac piped in, looking from Stiles to Derek anxiously, and even though its just images Stiles could feel the tension in the air. Derek still hadn’t said anything. 

“Derek gave me a choice. So, if Stiles wants to be bitten then…Derek?”

Derek finally seemed to snap from his silent brooding and he barked towards Scott and Isaac,

“I need to talk to Stiles alone. You two get scarce.” 

His eyes flashed red and Stiles shivered despite the warmth inside the tent. In the crystal ball, Scott and Isaac wandered away, both heavily hesitant. The image of himself seemed on-edge, like he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. 

“I—“ he licked his lips, catching Derek’s gaze and quickly looking away, “I was mostly asking hypothetically. You know, if you—“

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted. 

“So would you?” 

“Would—do you want me to?”

“You aren’t answering the question.”

“Neither are you,” Derek fumed and Stiles glared at him. They stared at each other silently for a moment, communicating only with their equally fierce glares, then Stiles deflated and looked away. 

“I think I might want to,” He murmured quietly, avoiding Derek’s gaze. Derek just stared at him for another few minutes, then he uncrossed his arms and replied,

“I’ve never offered because I didn’t think you would want the bite. If you really want it—and I mean really, Stiles, without a doubt—I would give it to you.” 

Stiles swallowed. There seemed to be something else behind those words but he couldn’t quite place it. 

“I think I do.”

“You need to _know,_ Stiles.”

“Can I think about it? You know, until I _know_?” 

Derek looked him over again, Stiles thought he saw himself blush under that stern gaze. Finally the werewolf nodded. 

“The full moon is in a week and a half. If you know by then…” He trailed off and Stiles nodded. 

The next thing the crystal ball showed was the moon, round and full and shining high in the sky. There was no one around but Stiles and Derek. They were in Stiles’ room and even at first glance the atmosphere seemed tense.

“Are you sure, Stiles? Completely positive?”

Stiles was sitting on his bed and he nodded, then smiled. 

“You’re being so careful about this, Derek. What’s the deal? I know you weren’t this nervous when you bit Erica or Boyd.” 

Something flickered in Derek’s eyes and it made Stiles’ breath catch in his throat. Derek leaned over the end of the bed towards Stiles, eyes deep and serious.

“You could _die,_ ” He explained, voice gentle and almost scared. 

“Or, I could become a badass werewolf.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. 

“This is serious, Stiles.” 

“I am serious, Derek,” Stiles countered, standing and stepping across his bedroom floor towards the alpha, slowly stretching out his right arm invitingly. Derek took a sharp breath in, eyeing Stiles’ arm before reaching out and taking his wrist, lowering it gently as Stiles stared up at him, confusion gleaming in his eyes. 

Stiles seemed about to say something else, his mouth open and ready, but then Derek leaned in, claws and fangs extending as he slid one hand along the length of Stiles’ neck, tilting his chin back as his other hand pulled down the collar of Stiles’ shirt, exposing the skin above his shoulder. Stiles could see the way his breath hitched and his body tensed at the sudden contact. Derek’s fangs gleamed in the low moonlight and he bent his mouth over Stiles’ throat.

“Is he seriously gonna bite my neck?” Stiles asked aloud to no one, watching with fascinated awe at the events pictured in the crystal ball. “What does he think he is, a vampire?” 

But he swallowed thickly all the same, enthralled by the hesitation as Derek paused just above his flesh. He could practically feel the heat from Derek’s breath on his skin and reached a hand up to rub at the spot Derek seemed to have chosen just before Derek finally bent and sunk his teeth into Stiles’ skin. He almost felt that too, wide-eyed as the Stiles’ in the crystal crumpled in Derek’s arms. It didn’t seem like a flash of pain like Peter’s bite had been. It was almost erotic, especially coupled with the low moan that he made when Derek removed his teeth but stayed holding Stiles in his arms. 

He glanced up at Hanna, flushing slightly at the embarrassingly intimate display being shown in the crystal ball. She looked as blank as ever though, eyes closed and face scrunched in concentration. He glanced back down and saw Derek finally take a step back. It seemed he could stand again and the Stiles in the crystal was just as embarrassed as the Stiles out of it. 

He cleared his throat. 

“I, uh,” he said, avoiding Derek gaze just as obviously as Derek was avoiding his. He brought a hand up to cover the bite that was only slightly bleeding. “I guess there’s no going back now, huh? You’re probably going to regret that, dude. You know this means I’m one of your betas now, right?” 

Derek’s eyes flickered up and he shrugged flinchingly. 

“You’re probably right. But you were the one who wanted it.”

“Yeah! No, I mean, I’m still totally down. That was just, um, not what I expected?”

It wasn’t what Stiles sitting in the tent expected either, although that was kind of a given. 

“You aren’t feeling any pain, are you?” Derek asked almost nervously.

Stiles shook his head. 

“That’s a—that’s a good sign.” 

“So I’m not gonna die then? Great! Is that—I mean, I feel like that was kind of anti-climactic, you know? Is that really it?” 

Derek nodded but took a step closer. 

“Let me see it,” he said gruffly, and Stiles took his hand off of the bite. Derek’s fingers came up to lightly trace his teeth marks and Stiles shuddered. Derek hesitated again, catching Stiles eye and leaning in closer, asking quietly,

“Can I…?”

Stiles didn’t think he knew what Derek was asking when he nodded, which was typical, because the look on his face when Derek leaned down further and let his tongue drag across the broken skin on Stiles’ neck was nothing but shock. 

“ _Derek!_ ” he gasped, another horribly embarrassing sound to escape him, but Derek didn’t pull away, swiping another hot line across Stiles’ skin. 

Stiles squirmed in the fortune teller’s chair, his body warm and tingling all over just imagining what Derek’s tongue would feel like sliding wet and hot over his throat. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it before. There was something there, between he and Derek. It was faint and shy and never spoken of—but it was there. And it seemed like in this reality, the reality where he asked to be bitten, the something might have had a chance of becoming an actual thing. 

“Stiles,” Derek growled against the bite, and the next thing Stiles knew they were mouth-to-mouth, Stiles’ hands buried in Derek’s hair as Derek tightly gripped his waist and attempted to bite down on Stiles’ lower lip without breaking the skin. Stiles was moaning for real, no tiny embarrassed noises but honest-to-god sounds of lust. Stiles was already ripping Derek’s leather jacket off as Derek pressed him back into the bed, their hands and mouths moving everywhere they could reach on each other like they were animals. 

Then, everything faded to white and the scene changed. Morning light poured into Stiles’ room and something moved on his bed. His heart leapt when he realized that it was Derek, Derek had slept in his bed. He sat up blearily, blinking in the morning light and obviously looking around for Stiles. 

All of the sudden Stiles leapt through the open window with inhuman grace, landing delicately on his bedroom floor. Derek’s eyes were wide on him and Stiles just grinned, eyes flashing gold and teeth elongating before he wiggled a finger at Derek and was out of the window again. Derek blinked, grinned hungrily, followed Stiles out of the window in a flash and that was all Stiles could take.

“I have to go!” he announced, springing so suddenly up from the chair that he almost knocked it over. Hanna blinked from her daze, hands moving from around the crystal ball as Stiles headed for the door. 

“Wait!” she called to him. “There’s more! Don’t you want to see more? How great of a wolf you would make? Yours and Derek’s future? Your _child_ —“

“I can’t,” Stiles shook his head, not daring to hear her. “I have to go. I have to go now.” 

She seemed like she wanted to interrupt him again but he cut her off, tossing the five-dollar bill violently onto the table and making the crystal ball wobble.

“Thank you!” he said, and then he pushed back the cloth doorway, nearly bowling over Scott who was standing on just the other side. He didn’t stop moving and Scott followed him with a confused expression out of the fortune teller tent. 

“Dude! I’ve been waiting forever, what were you doing in there?”

“I’ve gotta go see Derek,” He replied, rushed and frantic and heart beating a mile a minute. 

“What?” Scott asked, annoyed to have to keep up with the speed Stiles was moving through the carnival tents with. “Why? Now, seriously?”

“Yes,” Stiles replied firmly. He could see the jeep. “Call Allison. Tell her to give you a ride home. I’ve—I’ve just got to go!” 

He thought Scott yelled something else at his back but he didn’t hear it as he threw open the driver’s side door and jammed the keys in, bolting from the parking lot and speeding mindlessly towards Derek’s loft. 

He didn’t think on the way there, when he parked, or when he flung open the door to find Derek half-naked in only cozy black pajama bottoms. He _definitely_ wasn’t thinking when he instantly shouted,

“Do you want to bite me?” 

Derek, who had probably just finished his evening workout and had a half-drunk water bottle in one hand, stared at him blankly.

“I mean,” Stiles added, flailing his arms around wildly. “Do you want to bite me in a lycanthropic way or in a sexy way? Either one.” 

Derek’s mouth dropped open a little and his eyes widened. He sniffed the air and frowned.

“Have you been hanging out with seers?” 

“That’s not—you didn’t answer the question!” 

“Stiles,” Derek said warningly, taking a step closer.

“Yes! Okay, yes, I had a little future-seeing session with some seers! Ha, say that five times fast!”

“What were you doing with seers? What did they show you?”

Stiles sighed.

“I just came across one, okay? Don’t get your tail in a twist. And,” he hesitated, because he wasn’t sure how Derek would feel about some of the things he saw, “She showed me what would have happened if I’d let Peter bite me.” 

“Peter threatened to bite you? When?” Derek growled, taking another step closer, eyes furious. 

“Oh my god, it was ages ago! And he didn’t threaten, he just asked, and I turned him down, but Hanna—“

“Was that the name of the seer?”

“—showed me what would have happened if I had decided to say yes and I would have died!”

Derek stiffened, his entire body going tense. 

“What.”

“Dude, it’s okay, I totally said no so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. What else did she show you?” 

Stiles hesitated again. This wasn’t where he wanted this conversation to go.

“She—she just showed me what would happened if a different alpha bit me.”

“A different alpha,” Derek repeated, eyeing Stiles skeptically. “Me?”

“Maybe.”

“And?” Derek asked, tension firm in his bare shoulders, jaw clenched tight. “Did you—Stiles. Did you die?” 

Stiles just shook his head. Some of the tension eased out of Derek’s body like a long exhale. He kept looking at Stiles curiously.

“But there was something else, wasn’t there? She showed you something else. What was it?” 

“You licked the bite,” Stiles confessed, looking anywhere but Derek. He was starting to think that coming here had been a bad idea. 

“That can—“ Derek paused and huffed softly. “That can make the bite heal better, sometimes.” 

“Did you lick Erica’s bite? Or Jackson’s? Or Boyd’s or Isaac’s?” 

Derek turned away, expression pained. 

“You didn’t, did you? But you licked mine.”

“No, I didn’t, because it never happened,” Derek reminded him. “It was just a—seers just like to mess with people, Stiles. It wasn’t—“

“It seemed pretty real, Derek! It seemed pretty real when you licked the bite and didn’t stop until you were licking into my mouth! Tell me the truth, Derek, do you want to bite me to turn me?”

“No,” Derek replied quickly, firmly. His face was set and it didn’t leave Stiles with much room to doubt him. “I don’t want to turn you, Stiles. I don’t even care how great of a wolf you would be, because you _would_ be great. Even if you asked me to turn you I would hesitate. People change once they’re turned, Stiles, and I—“

He cut himself off, looking away quickly and it felt like there was no air in the room anymore. 

“You don’t want me to change?” 

“You’re fine the way you are,” Derek scowled at the floor. 

“You didn’t answer the other question,” Stiles breathed, because this was way more than he ever hoped for. He thought maybe Derek was attracted to him, but actual _feelings_ were something else entirely. 

“Which one?” 

“Do you, um, want to bite me in a sexy way, maybe?” Stiles asked, taking a half-step towards Derek as Derek jerked his head around to meet Stiles’ gaze, stilling him and sending his heart rate skyrocketing. 

“And if I did?” Derek asked cautiously, closing the distance between them so that Stiles could feel the heat from his _holy shitting hell totally naked chest_. 

“I—“ Stiles gulped. “I would not be opposed to that either.” 

Derek grinned and then his lips were on Stiles. It was short and sweet and nothing like the one in Hanna’s vision—it was better because it was _real._

Stiles leaned in and caught Derek’s lips again, biting lightly and licking along his bottom lip until Derek growled and pulled Stiles against him, hands tight on his waist and yeah, no, that was much more like the images in the crystal ball had been. Derek kissed Stiles ferociously and Stiles snuck his tongue between Derek’s teeth to lick against his, tasting all he could before Derek could move away again. 

Derek arms were hot against him, his lips softer than he imaged and Stiles thought he could go on kissing Derek forever. He thought about what Hanna had said when he was leaving, about his and Derek’s future together, and he smiled into the kiss as Derek swiped his teeth along Stiles’ tongue. 

Eventually Derek pulled away, leaving Stiles painfully turned on with little to no blood left inside his skull. Barely enough for him to smile dreamily and mutter,

“That was, uh—“

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, then glanced at Stiles thoughtfully and asked, “Why do you taste like cotton candy?” 

Stiles threw his head back and laughed, leaning into Derek and blissfully believing in the future he and Derek had together. 

You’ve gotta love traditions.

**Author's Note:**

> The child that Hanna mentions at one point that I'm sure some of you picked up on is a child that Stiles and Derek wind up adopting, not an MPreg thing. At least in my personal headcanon, but whatever. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Check out some of my other Sterek fics, they're probably better. XD


End file.
